Intimate Strangers
by Ruthless Bunny
Summary: After leaving the NYPD, Bobby is managing his building, and in this capacity he is mistaken for a psychiatrist by a lovely, married woman.
1. Chapter 1

**Intimate Strangers**

_Based on an idea proposed by the French film directed by Patrice Leconte._

"Okay, no problem Steve. I can take care of it for you." Bobby hung the phone up softly. He went to his desk and took out the master key ring. He thumbed through each one until he found the one for unit B1, the basement office.

Not uncommon in New York, the basement unit was a doctor's office, or more precisely a psychiatrist's office. Unfortunately, Dr. Monnier wouldn't be making it in today, or any other day for that matter. The call was from the landlord, letting Bobby know that Dr. Monnier had died at St. Vincent's after a short illness. Bobby didn't ask for details, after all those years, death didn't interest him much anymore.

Bobby walked down and outside and let himself into the office via the front door. He gave the brass name-plate a quick shine with his sleeve on his way through the door. He turned on the overhead lights and looked around the small office. An oak file cabinet, full of patient files, if the drawer that was slightly opened was any indication, a matching oak desk, a small suede sofa, two comfortable chairs and a bookcase occupied the small space.

Bobby closed the drawer and took stock. His task was to clear out the office and to prepare the unit to be re-rented. He took out one of his old detective notebooks and began to make a list. In addition to cleaning supplies, he noted that he'd need to box up and store the files. He observed a parched plant and took it into the bathroom to give it some water. When he came out, a young woman stood in the open doorway.

She extended her hand. "Good morning, Steven suggested that I see you." Bobby juggled the plant for a moment before putting it back on top of the file cabinet.

"Pleased to meet you. So Steven sent you?" He scratched his head. Steven was the landlord, and apparently he had already lined someone up to rent the space, but in his call, he hadn't mentioned anything about showing the unit. He indicated that she should sit in one of the chairs. He sat on the sofa. He picked his notebook up and toyed with his pen.

"Yes, I'm Anna, Anna Franklin." She crossed her very pretty legs, "I've never done this before." She seemed nervous.

"No problem. I've been at this for a while. Do you have any questions for me?" Bobby had memorized the simple questions on the application and he figured that if she were interested in leasing the office, that he could always go upstairs to get the paperwork. She looked around the office, he followed her gaze, "I haven't had a chance to clean it up; I do plan on getting to it."

She nodded, "So how does this work, I just tell you what I need?"

He shrugged, "That's as good a place as any to start." Bobby cursed Steven for not giving him a heads up. He would at least have had a notion of what Anna Franklin might have wanted.

"Well, my husband is having an affair." She said it for shock value.

It didn't go unnoticed, Bobby was shocked. "Oh." He jotted something down on the notebook, but only to avoid looking her in the eye.

"Yes, he doesn't know that I know. But a wife _always_ knows. He's spending time away from home, he's distant and we hardly ever make love anymore, not that there's been much passion lately anyway." She fidgeted a bit, "I'm not really a smoker, but I think I'd be more comfortable with a cigarette, do you mind? For some reason, I feel like I should be smoking."

Bobby nodded his assent, he was thinking that at some point that Anna was going to tie her narrative back to renting the office. He found a dish for her to use as an ashtray and she continued as she wrestled with a brand new pack of Marlboros and a book of matches, "I'm angry, but I'm not upset, if that makes any sense." She finally freed one and lit it up, exhaling the smoke in his direction.

"I'm going to open a window." He got up and cranked the side window open. A spring breeze wafted through.

"I mean, I suppose I have to divorce him or something and frankly, I'm not in the mood. Does that make me crazy?" She puffed again and flicked the ash into the saucer.

"No." Bobby didn't really know what to make of Anna, but she was pretty and something about her kept him interested in her story.

"Good, I was beginning to worry. Personally, I haven't been all that interested in Jerry for a while now, I'm rather glad he's found someone to talk to. I'm not sure I still love him. If I loved him, wouldn't I feel…something about this?"

Bobby nodded, then he corrected himself, "no, yes, uh, don't you feel anything?"

Anna thought for a moment and shook her head, "no. Nothing. Maybe I'm depressed."

"Maybe," he agreed.

"I'm not interested in any drugs for it though." She leaned forward and gestured with her cigarette, "I'm not into that sort of thing."

"It's your choice," he said with equanimity, "so…what do you think?" Referring to the office.

She thought for a moment. "I feel comfortable with you. Tell you what, how about I come back next week, same time?" She rose and stubbed out her cigarette. The butt smoldered in the saucer. She fished around in her purse and handed him two, hundred dollar bills. "I'd prefer to keep this between us."

He pocketed the money, "need a receipt?"

She shook her head, "no. "

"Okay, then I'll be here next week." He got up to show her to the door.

"Next week then." She smiled, "I think this might work out really well."

Bobby closed the door behind her, "interesting." He continued with the inventory and his list. "I wonder if she's going to want to keep the furniture."


	2. Chapter 2

**Intimate Strangers**

**Chapter 2**

Bobby finished cleaning the office. He removed the framed certificates and diplomas from the walls, stored the files, dusted the surfaces, and shampooed the rugs. It looked and smelled a lot better for his efforts.

He felt that he left a poor impression the last time he met with Anna so he dug up one of his old suits. After a few months of working out and watching his diet, he was able to fit into them again. He checked his reflection in the mirror and adjusted his tie. He approved his appearance. His hair was gray, never to be completely dark as it was just a decade ago. He sighed, time marched on.

About five minutes before she was to arrive he made his way into the office, leaving the door open for her.

Anna arrived right on time. She had a new handbag and wore a bright orange dress. "Hey, it looks really good in here. You weren't kidding about cleaning up were you?" She sat down on the sofa, recently cleaned to a light camel color.

"Hey, it's all about pleasing the customer," he replied affably.

"Well, it's nice that someone made an effort for me. I'm feeling positively ignored lately." She set down her purse and reached for her cigarettes. Bobby moved the newly purchased ashtray towards her. "My husband is away on '_business'_. Monkey business most likely. "

"I'm sorry to hear it." Bobby sat in the chair opposite her. Why was this woman telling him about her private life?

"Well, it's inevitable. He's going to do what he's going to do. He's got to know that I know right? He can't be stupid enough to believe that I haven't noticed. You're a man, when you get involved with a woman, do you really just lose your mind like that?"

"Depends on the woman," Bobby said with a sly smile.

"Oh, you're a charmer. I like that. Not really what I expected. Aren't you supposed to just nod and mutter while I talk?" She waved the smoke away from her face.

"I could if you preferred, but I figured you were more in the mood for a dialog." He stood, "can I get you some coffee, tea, water?" He walked over to a table where a small fridge and coffee pot were stored. "I made fresh."

"Sure. Cream, no sugar." Her eyes followed him, "you're all dressed up."

"Wanted to look professional." He handed her the mug.

"Thanks." She said, making him wonder if it was for the suit, or the Sumatra.

"So, let's get down to business, what kind of time-frame were you thinking of?" He had a clip board with the application all set for her, he pulled it off the desk and let it sit in his lap.

"I don't know, until Michael stops being an asshole?" She shrugged, "you know, you make a nice cup of coffee."

"Years of experience. You'd like to keep it open-ended then?" He marked _month-to-month_ on the application.

"I think that works best for me, I'll know when it's time to stop." She changed the subject, "What do you think of my new handbag?" She held it up for him to admire.

"Very nice. Prada?" Bobby wasn't all that interested in women's accessories.

"Badgley Mischka, actually. I've been on a little spree. It's not that big a deal actually, but I've been spending a lot of money lately. Do you think it's some underlying plea for attention?" She held up her high-heel, shod foot, "check out my pedicure, looks really nice in these Louboutins, don't you think?"

"You seem to put a lot of stock in designers." He observed her slender, elegant foot.

"Hard not to in New York. All the women I know do. Kind of shallow if you ask me. Sure, the things are really beautiful, but at the end of the day, Rolex or Timex, it's still the same time. Just to change it up, I bought the dress at Target."

Bobby quirked an eyebrow. "You like Target?"

"I LOVE Target. I have to go to Jersey City, but screw it; it gives me a reason to take the car out. I love driving on the expressway, especially when there's no traffic. Just open the windows and the moon-roof and let all that fresh air in, let it blow my hair all over, crank up the tunes. I forget everything if I can blast some stupid dance song. Lady Gaga fits perfectly into my rotation right now."

"Is that what it takes for you to feel free?" He regarded her differently, not the Desperate Housewife she appeared to be the previous week.

"No, I always feel free. I choose what I do, I choose how I respond, I choose how I feel. Driving is just driving. Fun." She smiled.

"So if you feel free, why…?"

"Why come see you? Everyone needs a sympathetic ear. You don't judge, you don't tell me what to do. I like that. Once a week, I come here, I talk to you, I give you some money and you don't think about me or my problems until I show up the next week. I could confide in my girlfriends or my family, but they actually care about me, and they'd want me to confront Michael, or leave him and frankly, I'm not in the mood for drama. This is much easier." She set her mug down, he noticed the lipstick imprint on it. Momentarily he wondered what her lipstick tasted like. He quickly dismissed the thought.

"So you're coming to see me?" Bobby became confused.

"Exactly," she ignored the question in his response, "I come see you, we talk for fifty minutes, I pay you, and then I go on with my life. It's perfect really."

Slowly the wheels turned: fifty minutes, weekly, pay. _**She thought he was Dr. Monnier**_. "Oh." He felt he should say something, but she was so interesting and he rather liked meeting with her to discuss her life. "If it works for you…I guess it's okay."

"Right, it works for me. I suppose there's nothing new under the sun for you, but it's refreshing for me. I get to vent, and then forget it."

"Ah." Bobby really didn't have an answer and he was struggling with the dilemma of whether or not to disabuse her of her mistake.

"At any rate, I think our time is nearly up." She handed him the money, "I'm meeting my cousin for lunch up-town. Same time next week?"

"Sure. Why not." Bobby pocketed the money.

Anna laughed, "Right, what else would you be doing?"

She let herself out. He watched her go up the short flight of stairs toward the corner to get a taxi. "Well," he said to himself, "Mrs. Rodriguez wants me to paint her foyer."


End file.
